Thirty Days in June
by CreedsGalBirdy
Summary: Sabretooth and Birdy - Writing Prompt Challenge - One word per day for every day in June.
1. Silence

Day 1 – Silence

The ends of her hair tickled across his chest as she moved off of him. Birdy's body sliding against the silk sheets whispered to him and Creed reached out for her. His hand wrapped around her small wrist. He would let her stay in his bed for the night. For keeping the demons in his head silent, he would let her stay forever.


	2. Tough

Day 2 – Tough

It was a 'make it or break it' mission. Actually, his words were "make it or I'll break you". Birdy was determined to get it done. Get it done right and get it done fast. The machete she'd been holding her in left hand clanged as it hit the concrete warehouse floor. The spent pulse rifle was heavy in her right hand as she let it slip from her fingers. Panting, wavering on her feet and covered in blood, sweat and who knew what else, Birdy surveyed her mission.

Creed stepped up alongside her, slapping her on the back, causing her to wobble even more. "Nice work, girl. Yer tougher than ya look."


	3. Smile

Day 3 – Smile

Victor Creed fucking hated flying. He didn't need to list the reasons why because every single reason was one-hundred percent fucking accurate. What's more, he hated flying without Birdy. She, at least, could make the flight tolerable by slipping that psi-power of hers right into his head to drown out all the bullshitty reasons he hated being stuck on a plane with a bunch'a whiny meatbags.

Making his way through the terminal, the crowd of travelers dispersing at baggage claim, Creed caught sight of Birdy across the way. She stood from where she'd perched herself along a giant planter and held up a makeshift sign that read 'Boss'. Creed snorted and rolled his eyes. Birdy smiled, wide and sweet, biting her bottom lip a little, just the way he liked. Oh yeah, Victor Creed fucking hated flying. But that welcome home smile was worth the trouble.


	4. Storm

Day 4 – Storm

"You're not allowed near the fax machine again. Ever." Birdy did her best to glare at her employer but the constant flickering of the candlelight failed to illuminate her spite.

Waving a hand in the air, Creed replied, "Yeah, yeah. Whatever." He flipped another playing card and set it down along with the others, ending the column.

Birdy muttered to herself, "What kinda dope books a job in Bermuda during hurricane season?"


	5. Snow

Day 5 – Snow

Unmoving and with her arms straight out at her sides Birdy growls, "I'm gonna kill you for that." She pulls at the back of her sweater, trying to shake snow out of it.

Sabretooth chuckles as he heads down the snow-covered mountain. "You'll hafta catch me first, girly!"


	6. Blade

Day 6 - Blade

"Hands to yourself, mister." Birdy held her hand still, squinting her eyes at her employer.

"If yer hand slips there, girl, best make sure it goes all the way through." Creed gave her a wink and stilled his hands but left them resting on Birdy's thighs as she sat on the bathroom counter in front of him.

She tipped his chin up with one finger and brought the antique straight razor back to his throat. "You'd probably enjoy it too much, even if I tried." Her hand was steady as she pulled the blade along his skin, pressing just enough to cut the hairs.

Sabretooth hummed in response but let his hands slowly drift along Birdy's thighs again. She made a quick hiss to make him stop, but he didn't. She sighed loudly, obviously frustrated. "I'm never gonna get this done if you don't stop."

Then he shrugged one shoulder and said, "Fuck it. Beards are in, ain't they?"


	7. Wind

Day 7 – Wind

He was getting closer, he knew. Diverting east just a bit, Sabretooth stalked through the dense forest, his boots quiet on the leaf-covered earth. A shift in the wind, his amber eyes tracked left and Sabretooth took off running, smooth and predatory. The closer he got, the thicker the scent. If he focused, he could separate them out; sweat, gun powder, wool, whisky, cedar, blood, Dior.

He lunged at last, vaulting himself over a fallen pine and landed hard, his claws swiping at the red and black flannel on the ground. He jerked the man up and sneered at him. His threat fell silent looking at the fresh corpse. Sabretooth tossed the man aside and turned, surveying. Three more men face down in the rotting forest all riddled with bullet holes.

Slouched against a tree, an automatic rifle silent next to her and smoke trailing from the barrel, was Birdy. Creed crouched low in front of her. There was a serenity to her face he was unaccustomed to but he ignored it, instead he methodically examined her for injury. Bruising at the temples, petechiae around the eyes, red pinpricks along the side of her neck, injection sites no doubt. As his eyes appraised, his hands felt for other injuries and found adhesive residue around her swollen wrists, duct tape most likely.

A strange laceration was hiding underneath her hair, just along the hairline, red and angry against the blonde, and Sabretooth hoped that whatever Mickey Mouse surgery they'd done to tamp down her psi-powers could be reversed. Hefting Birdy's unconscious body, Sabretooth headed back down the mountain. He made a promise to himself, and a passing comment to the sleeping woman in his arms, that no one would ever lay and hand on his girl again.


	8. Foot

Day 8 – Foot

"God, you're heavy!" Birdy groaned as she adjusted Sabretooth's arm across her shoulders.

"Pure muscle, baby, and don't you know it," he grunted out, hobbling alongside his assistant, trying not to put too much of his weight on her smaller frame.

"I'll give up my Christmas bonus this year if you promise to never taunt an alligator again."

Sabretooth chuckled at her gumption. "Not exactly sure who's on the losing side o' that but it's a deal."

After a beat Birdy asked, "How long 'til it grows back?"

Sabretooth replied, "Not long. Toes are comin' in now."


	9. Cold

Day 9 – Cold

Sabretooth slammed into the steel door again. And again, the door stood strong. Birdy couldn't even make out a dent where he'd been pounding so she started emptying boxes and breaking them down flat. Sabretooth roared in frustration, beating the freezer door with his fists. Birdy shook her head and continued to pull boxes apart, laying them flat on the cold floor. She settled down as Sabretooth huffed at the door, unwilling to give up so easily.

"Why bother? We're gonna be here all night. At least until the morning crew gets in. Have a seat," she said, patting the cardboard next to her.

"Ain't you worried about freezin' yer pretty little tushie off?" Sabretooth drawled.

"Nah," Birdy answered. "Besides, if I get cold, you'll warm me up, won'tcha?" She flicked her lashes and gave him a coquettish smile.

Sabretooth sat down hard next to Birdy on the flattened boxes and draped an arm around his assistant. "Other than gettin' us stuck in this freezer, that's th' best idea you had all day."


	10. Pencil

Day 10 – Pencil

The pair were leaning over blueprints to an office high-rise 4 blocks away. One clawed finger trailed a path from the North end of the building to the intended target's location in the center of the structure. A cherry-red painted fingernail traced another path from the West side of the building, citing ease of entry and fewer security camera to track them.

A growl of frustration came from the other before he explained that the North side would facilitate escape better. She countered, saying the West entry would keep them from the eyes of security.

Annoyed, Sabretooth snatched the pencil Birdy was using to hold her hair up, the blonde strands falling in a messy heap along her shoulders, and drew a big 'X' over the West entry point. Then he drew a big circle over the North side where he wanted to go in, drawing the circle over and over to make it dark. When he was satisfied, he drew a line from the North entrance to the target, circled that and then slammed the pencil down and walked away.

Birdy picked the pencil up, twirling her hair into a makeshift bun and running the pencil through it. She shrugged, rolling the blueprints back up and said, "So, we'll go in the North side. No need to get huffy about it."


	11. Nose

Day 11 – Nose

"Why did you do that?!" was Birdy's muffled cry, hands covering her face. Her eyes were red and shining, tears ready to spill. Creed pulled her hands away and examined her nose. There was no blood but it was already beginning to swell. He touched it gently on either side, getting a hiss from Birdy both times.

"Sorry darlin', but ya had fair warnin'. Next time I tell ya ta duck, ya best duck."


	12. Promise

Day 12 – Promise

He was fairly certain he'd never told her. There had never been a reason to. She could read his mind whenever she wanted. Hell, what was the point of even talking if she always knew what he was gonna say? But they pretended she couldn't read his mind, that she didn't spend half of her days inside his brain scrabbling to put his puzzle pieces of memories back together to resemble something other than bloody pulp. She did a pretty good job at it, too. Not that he would ever tell her. The five-figure monthly salary he paid her ought to be enough thanks.

So, when he saw the giant bowl of chopped pineapple in the fridge he figured it must'a been a psi-thing.

Growing up poor in the wild woods of Canada, making a go at living by what a person could get from the land, young Victor Creed didn't get much in the way of treats. His first taste of the sweet, yellow fruit, the sticky juice running down his arms, he was probably only three years old. Somewhere in the back of his memories, he recalls Momma saying he could have more after supper but like most of his memories, it's all half whispers in the fog.

A note on the bowl was in Birdy's flowing script: 'As Promised.' Creed shrugged and took the bowl, sitting at the kitchen island and peeling back the bowl's lid. Yeah, she'd been in his head but it was nice that she'd remembered.


	13. Necklace

Day 13 – Necklace

"Ugh. Could it get any hotter?" Birdy flapped a folded street map and fanned herself.

"Complainin' about it ain't gonna make it any cooler, that's for sure," Creed grumbled. It was late summer in Paris and the City of Love and been struck with an incredible heatwave. Having finished their work earlier in the week, Birdy was able to persuade her employer to stay a little longer so she could see the sights. For reasons only known to Creed, he decided to follow along as she toured the city.

They walked along Rue Saint Honore, strolling lazily, weaving through the crowds of over-heated tourists and locals. Suddenly, Birdy gasped and griped Sabretooth's wrist. He snorted in irritation and pulled his arm away. "What?!"

Peering through a shop window Birdy, entranced, said, "I must have it." She turned back to look at her boss.

He simply shrugged. "Whatever. You got money."

Birdy squeaked and hurried into the store, leaving Creed on the sidewalk, slightly confused.

He was almost finished with his flavored shaved ice, leaning against a tree, when Birdy emerged from the jewelry shop, beaming. She very nearly bounced over to him and he tipped his paper cup of shaved ice toward her. Birdy ignored the gesture, instead tipping her chin up to expose the strands of gold and chocolate diamonds that lay glittering on her chest.

Taking back his offering, Creed said, "Not two minutes ago you was complainin' about how hot it is. Then ya go an' throw five pounds of junk on ya."

"Excuse me," Birdy countered, "but this is five pounds of gold and precious gemstones. And it looks damn fine on me."

Creed started off down the sidewalk again, Birdy trailing alongside. "Whatever you say, girl."


	14. Mind

Day 14 – Mind

It was never an easy job. Going into someone's mind and trying to make it more…normal. And his mind? Forget it. There was no normal for Victor Creed. There was only leveling out. Bringing him down and calming him the hell out so he could function.

Birdy rarely complained. She wasn't sure she had a right to, considering what he did and what she helped him to do. The blood on her hands was just as warm, wet and sticky as it was on his. But he paid her well and she never wanted anything.

Occasionally, though, she needed a break. A break from the overwhelming fear and horror and desperation in his mind that she tried to control for him. It wasn't often, but sometimes, Creed would be looking for Birdy, for some insignificant thing, and he would find her in her private bath. Behind the closed door and under the cover of the shower's spray he could hear her crying. If he ever felt any guilt at this it was momentary and quickly forgotten as soon as he left the bedroom. In Victor Creed's mind, this was just the normal order of things.


	15. Books

Day 15 – Books

He didn't trust anyone to be in the mansion unsupervised. Hell, he barely trusted Birdy (at least, that's what he told her). So, it wasn't all that surprising to know that Victor Creed did not have a maid. But he did have Birdy.

In his office, she stood on the third rung of a ladder reaching for a handful of books high up on the shelf. She pulled them down to rest on the ladder's shelf and gently dusted them, then the shelf, before replacing them where they went.

For the better part of an hour she worked quietly while Creed sat at his computer. He was either checking his stocks, watching porn or looking up logue seats for the next Redwings game. Birdy pulled books, dusted and set the books back. It was easy work and it made her feel good to keep the house clean. In the middle of one row, Birdy asked, "Why do you have so many books, Boss? I never see ya readin' 'em."

Not looking up from his computer he replied, "Ain't gotta read 'em to know what they're worth. A good hunk o' those books're first editions. Big investments there." Birdy hummed in response to that, having not considered that sort of answer from her boss. She returned to shelving the books in her hand when from the desk she heard in Sabretooth's raspy tenor, _"I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me. I have seen them riding seaward on the waves, combing the white hair of the waves blown back, when the wind blows the water white and black. We have lingered in the chambers of the sea, by sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown, till human voices wake us, and we drown."_

* * *

Sabretooth quotes "The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot.


End file.
